


The Winter's Wind

by SilverSnowFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSnowFox/pseuds/SilverSnowFox
Summary: Arya accepts the Kindly Man's offer to become a courtesan. By the time Sam arrives in Braavos on his way to Old Town, she's already managed to build a name for herself. When he tells her that Jon Snow is now Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, nothing will stop Arya from making her way back to him, to home.





	1. The Winter's Wind

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire. All of the credit goes to George RR Martin.

Sam weaved in and out of smaller streets of Braavos, where he was less likely to encounter anyone. Yet still, his heart fluttered and jumped at every slight noise. 

 _It’s the cats,_ Sam thought to himself, in an attempt to calm his beating heart. Gods know that Braavos was crawling with them.

He peered into the window of a lively alehouse and released a sigh of impatience when he failed to spot Daeron, his fellow crow. He had been missing for days now, fed up with the crying of the baby that Gilly was forced to take care of instead of her own son.

Sam knew that he had taken to singing in the whorehouses and bars, where he managed to accumulate quite a bit of coin with his better-than-average voice. They never saw the coin though, only what Daeron spent it on. It made Sam furious that Daeron was spending coin on gaudy outfits while Gilly and Maester Aemon didn’t even have wine and warm food back at the inn. 

Lost in his thoughts, Sam flinched back when he almost stumbled into two young Braavosi men.

“I’m sorry”, Sam stuttered out to the two. One had fair hair, just like Daeron’s. The other’s mane was as dark as night.

The dark haired one hissed something at him angrily.

“I don’t understand,” Sam replied back, his voice trembling with every word he spoke.

“My friend Terro said that you are fat. It disgusts him”, the fair one said.

“I’m sorry?” Sam mumbled again, too scared to feel offended. 

The dark featured man spoke again.

“My friend Terro said that you are overdressed. Are you some sort of high lord, to dress in all black?”

Braavos was opposite from Westeros. Whereas Westerosi nobles and merchants wore Lysenni silks that boasted of colorful hues, Braavosi nobles wore dark colors. Braavosi nobles commonly wore blacks and dark greys and blues while commoners strutted the streets in bright greens and pinks and yellows.

“I’m not—”

“He’s not a Lord,” another voice piped up for him. When Sam turned around, he came face to face with that of a young woman, no older than four and ten. The silken dress she wore was dark grey, but unlike his tattered cloaks, she dressed in finery that told him that she was high status. Her eyes were covered in kohl, rogue painted her cheeks, and silver chains wrapped around her neck.

The men seemed to be shocked into silence at this new woman’s appearance. Sam was reminded of the way love-struck common men would look to pretty highborn ladies.

She spoke again, this time in Braavosi. Sam could only understand the words _Westeros_ and _Night’s Watch_.

The dark haired man replied to her in the same language. Instead of the harsh and bitter tone that he used on Sam, his voice now sounded soft and courteous. Sam couldn’t understand a single word that he said but he would have had to guess that the man was attempting to seduce the young woman. 

The woman huffed; looking equally irritated and amused, and responded back in a growl. Promptly, she conjured a small knife from the sleeve of her gown and pointed it at them threateningly. All at once, the young men sauntered from the scene, only after throwing her a few winks and kisses. The woman tucked the dagger back into her sleeve as quick as she had taken it out.

“There’s another crow at the Happy Port. He’s going to marry the Sailor’s Wife,” the girl told him. “If anyone asks you who the most beautiful girl in the world is, say the Nightingale or else they’ll challenge you. And don’t walk around Braavos with a sword on you, you’re just asking for a fight then.”

“Thank you,” Sam squeaked. Embarrassed at having to be saved by a girl years younger than him. “Who are you?”

“Most people know me as the Winter’s Wind,” the woman replied. “You can call me Cat if you want, though. And you are?”

Sam had heard of the Winter’s Wind before; a new up and coming courtesan that was trained by the Black Pearl herself. Young and old men alike spoke of her beauty and wit, but Sam had never thought he would be in the presence of an acclaimed Braavosi courtesan on the streets so late at night. Sometimes he would see them being rowed to their trysts when the moon shone high overhead, but they were always accompanied by their guards and a troop of pretty maids on the cusp of womanhood. 

“Samwell of House Tarly.”

“Well,” the woman started with a charming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Samwell of House Tarly.”

“Where’d you learn the common tongue?” Sam found himself asking. She spoke with a Northern accent. Sam would never have noticed if he didn’t spend so much time around Jon. 

“I’m from King’s Landing,” Cat explained. “My father was the oarsman of Nymeria and when he died I had no where else to go. The Black Pearl took me in when she found me begging in the streets.”

“Oh,” Sam said, not quite sure what to reply with.

“Are you really from the Night’s Watch? I’ve never seen a Crow in Braavos before. Are you sailing for the Wall?” Cat asked. Her voice was laced with suspicion and when she reached for her waist, Sam was scared that she would procure another knife. Instead, she grabbed a silver bag tied around her waist that Sam didn’t notice before and reached in to grab a clam. “Would you like some?”

Sam hastily nodded his head and reached for the baked clam when she held it out to him. He swallowed it down in a single gulp and held his hand out for another one. 

“We’re going to Old Town.” Sam slugged this one down just as fast. “We’re between ships right now.”

“What ship are you sailing on?”

“Lady Ushanora,” Sam answered.

Cat raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “The Lady Ushanora sailed away days ago.”

“I know,” Sam murmured back pitifully. “I had watched it go. The Maester is deathly sick right now and we could not board in the condition he is in. The captain wouldn’t even pay us back the money we gave him and by now we’ve used up most of it…”

“Your brother seems to be doing well enough,” Cat said. “I saw him in the streets with almost a full pouch of coins. If he is not feeding his companions, what else does he spend it on?”

“Wine and whores mostly.” If Sam had the strength and courage to do it, he would have socked Daeron in the face by now. “You said you saw him at the Happy Port?”

“Yes.” Cat’s lips turned downward. “He was going to marry the Sailor’s Wife.”

“Marry?”

“She only fucks those that wed her.” Sam nearly flinched at the curse. He had never seen such a young and well-refined lady speak in such a way.

“Where is this Happy Port?” Daeron had taken his oath. He couldn’t marry!

“Across from the Mummer’s Ship. I can show you the way,” the woman offered.

“I know the way,” Sam said. He had come across the Mummer’s Ship enough times to know where it was docked. “I’m sorry. I need to leave now. Thank you for everything.”

The woman reached out a hand and stopped Sam before he could make a run for it. “You said that you were low of funds. If you have any need for help, you can usually find me docked in the Purple Harbor. My barge is called Nymeria. Just like the ship my father served on.” 

“Thank you, my Lady,” Sam simmered out. He bowed as low as his gut would allow and took off as fast as he could towards the Happy Port.

He could have sworn that he heard the woman grumble, “Not a lady” behind him.

 

* * *

 

  

Sam finds his way to the courtesan’s barge almost exactly two days later. Maester Aemon had finally succumbed to his fever the night before and retrieving Daeron proved to be a lost cause. Sam regretted Jon’s choice in having him tag along in the first place.

Sam already spent most of his coin on the inn with the fireplace that they never managed to use and food. It was time that they board a ship for Old Town, but he lacked the money to buy passage now, and they needed a room for the baby. He hoped with all his being that the pretty, young courtesan that asked him to call her “Cat” wasn’t jesting when she offered her help.

He walked the entirety to the Purple Harbor with his head down and his cloak covering his face. Anyone that wasn’t Braavosi wasn’t welcomed to the luxurious harbor. The place teemed with high-class courtesans that giggled behind their delicate fingers as he strolled by and Sam cursed the embarrassed red flush that painted his cheeks.

Sam thanked the Gods that the _Nymeria_ wasn’t hard to find. The barge boasted a gigantic grey wolf on the side whose eyes gleamed with golden paint.

He found himself questioning the design. Direwolves weren’t native to Braavos; it would be virtually impossible for any wolf to survive in Braavos with the city’s lack of prey and habitat. The direwolf’s eyes seemed to gleam when he peered into them and Sam shuddered, briefly thinking about Ghost.

Two well-muscled men blocked the entrance of the barge and Sam immediately diverted his eyes once theirs landed on him.

“My name is Samwell Tarly. Cat said that I was welcome here,” Sam’s voice trembled as he said it.

The two men frowned at him and asked him a question in Braavosi. When he didn’t answer, one of them took a threatening step forward and Sam stumbled back. He repeated the question, this time his voice was louder and his frustration was evident on his face and in his tone.

“I—I’m sorry.” Sam bowed low, as if that would stop them from yelling at him. “I don’t speak the language. I’ll leave now.” He turned away to prove his point and started to head back to where he came from.

A womanly voice caused him to pause in his retreat. He looked to who was talking, hoping that it was Cat, but was disappointed when he saw a complete stranger staring back at him. She was probably one of the Winter’s Wind’s servants.

“Who you?” The woman asked him with a thick accent.

“Samwell of House Tarly. I spoke with the Winter’s Wind two days ago. She said that I was welcome abroad if I needed her help,” Sam hurried to tell her.

The woman mumbled something to Sam that he couldn’t quite make out and left. He assumed that she went to inform Cat of his arrival.

He stood outside the barge for a moment, fidgeting under the burning gaze of the two guards. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw Cat make her way over to them; she wore the same outfit that she did when he first saw her, except now she replaced her long silver necklace for a simple silver bracelet. She told something to the two sentries and they promptly stepped aside. Sam gave her a smile but still hesitated to step aboard.

“Well, don’t just stand there all day,” Cat laughed. “Welcome to the _Nymeria_.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Sam bowed. He hurried past the guards and followed after her when she made her way to the door. 

The barge was lavishly furnished with black, black velvet divans and rich Lysene tapestries. It was the nicest place that Sam had seen since he left Horn Hill.

“It’s a bit much,” the woman admitted as she took a seat on the divan. “But most of it were gifts, so I have no room to complain. Have a seat.”

Sam rushed to seat himself on the plush velvet couch across from hers. A beautifully crafted weirwood table separated the two.

“It’s beautiful,” Sam told her. “What’s that?” He nodded over to the thin steel sword that stood out from the abode like a sore thumb. 

“It’s a sword,” Cat said dryly. She nodded over to his own, which he now tried his hardest to hide under all of his cloaks. “I trust that you’ve seen them before, especially at the Wall. I can’t imagine the Night’s Watchmen protecting the realm with kitchen knives.”

Sam chuckled. Although, the Night’s Watch was so poor that the swords that they did have were probably no sharper than their best kitchen knives.

“No, my Lady,” Sam said. “I meant to ask you if you practiced with it.” He remembered how quick she was to brandish the finger knife to the two young Braavosi men that wanted to duel him. 

“Yes,” she told him, rather bluntly. “I understand that in Westeros, it’s not very common for women to hold steel. Even here in Braavos, very little women are seen carrying around a sword, but I find it comforting. I like being able to wander the streets without having to be followed by my guards. I’m currently being trained by the First Sword of Braavos.” She told this to him rather proudly, with her head held high and her chin set. “And stop calling me, my Lady. I’m a courtesan of Braavos,” she added as an afterthought. 

“That’s quite impressive.” He smiled at her and she sent him a small grin back. Her tiny built made it hard for him to think of her as a threat, but she carried herself around with an air of confidence and power. The other courtesans did, too, however Cat seemed outright dangerous when compared to the others. “Where’d you get the sword from?”

Her grin slipped from her face all at once. “From the greatest man in the world,” she replied. Sam knew not to broach the subject anymore. “You’re not here to ask me questions about my dancing lessons though, are you?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “My friend, Gilly, her baby, and I desperately need to find passage to Old Town, but we are dangerously low on funds. I was hoping that you would be able to help us out.”

“I certainly have the means,” Cat said. “Is your fellow brother not going with you?”

“He’s abandoned the Night’s Watch.” Sam had to bite his tongue from saying anymore. If he were a stronger man, he would have killed Daeron himself.

“Abandoning the Night’s Watch is a crime punishable by death.” Cat’s grey, grey eyes pierced into his soul. They reminded him so much of Jon’s. “Did you not instill the King’s Justice?”

“He’s stronger than me,” Sam mumbled, playing with his thumbs.

“Just so,” Cat hummed. “Who is this Gilly woman and _her_ baby?” The woman stressed the word her, as if she knew that Sam was lying about Gilly being the mother.

“She’s a Wildling from beyond the Wall,” Sam’s voice faltered. Everyone south of the Wall hated Wildlings, no matter their rank. “Lord Commander Snow commanded me to take her to Old Town, too."  

“So the rumors are true then?” The woman bit her bottom lip so hard a drop of blood appeared. She hurriedly wiped it away with the back of her hand. “Jon Snow is the new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

“Yes,” Sam nodded his head. The woman’s gaze was penetrating and Sam wondered why this new piece of information was so important to her. “He was only recently voted in.”

“Very well then,” Cat stood up to leave the room and returned with a black purse. She laid it on the table in front of her and Sam heard the audible _thunk_ of coins hitting the polished wood.

“This shall pay for your passage,” she told him. She pushed over the purse and Sam took it with all the deftness his hands could muster.

“But—” The woman held up a single finger. Sam was surprised to see just how calloused her hands were. They were worst off than his. “I would like for you to write to your Lord Commander on my behalf.”

“What would you like for me to say?” Sam asked, baffled. He doubted that Jon would be interested in what some rich courtesan from Braavos had to say. 

“Tell him that I will be arriving at Castle Black within the month. Tell him to expect Arya of House Stark. Tell him that I said, “ _Stick them with the pointy end_.””  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, some years have passed since Arya first docked in Braavos. Instead of 10, almost 11, as she "thinks" she was when she docked, she's now 14. This was originally going to be a one-shot, but that didn't happen. I've been wanting an Arya! courtesan fic for awhile now, and since that's obviously not going to happen any time soon, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!


	2. A Courtesan's Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter's Wind makes a final appearance in Braavos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I do not own ASOIAF.

**Sam**

 

Daeron was found facedown in the canals the next day. His throat was neatly slit and he was dressed in his recently discarded Night’s Watch clothing, which should have still been in the inn. The plush purple cloak and the green and white striped tunic he was seen leaving the brothel in were neatly folded on the edge of a canal not far from where his body was found. The orphan children that found his clothing rejoiced in their discovery. They wrapped themselves in the soft, new cloak and flopped around in his black boots, which were far too large for the child’s feet. Good boots were hard to find.

After hearing the news, Sam immediately moved them into another room. Gilly, who had been in the inn with the baby the entire night, claimed that she didn’t see or hear anyone sneaking into their room. Everything besides Daeron’s clothing was left untouched.

Sam wondered what Daeron’s death might mean for him. _Do the Braavosi have something against the Night’s Watch?_

He couldn’t think of a reason why that would be, unless Daeron had done something particularly awful to upset the title he wore, despite the excessive clothing he hid behind. Daeron did have loose lips when he downed enough ale and whorehouses were known to get violent from time to time.

The coin that Lady Arya Stark gifted them was enough to buy themselves a luxurious private room upon the The Sealord’s Pride. It would be leaving in three days at dawn and Sam was anxious to continue his journey. 

He still marveled that the pretty courtesan that scared away his assailants was the missing Stark girl. Sometimes he admired her cunning, hiding in plain site among the most prideful men and women in the world. Other times, he doubted her sincerity.

Jon had told him that Arya Stark was the most boyish little girl in the entire North. She enjoyed running around in breaches and horse riding and couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Sam couldn’t imagine this woman doing any of those things. Although, he noticed, she did have quite a dirty mouth. He hoped that this beautiful and mysterious woman was and wasn’t Arya Stark at the same time. Jon would be ecstatic to hear that his sister was alive and well, Sam knew this. But he also knew that Jon would be both furious and saddened to hear about the type of life she was living.

Sam wrote a letter to Jon immediately after he returned back to his room at the inn. He scribbled down everything that she told him to write as well as a detailed description of her appearance. She was pale, short in stature, grey of eyes, and had chestnut colored hair that ended at the small of her back. For all intents and purposes, she had the Stark looks. He included in his letter about how he had come upon her, her profession, and how, for the most part, she seemed to be living comfortably.

Sam saw the could-be Arya the day after their meeting, on the arm of a famed braavos merchant king. The man looked thrice her age and kept his arm tight around her waist, occasionally leaning in to whisper sweet nothings into her ear. An assembly of guards followed them, and Sam recognized the two men that guarded her barge, Nymeria. Her eyes lit up with mirth at whatever he spoke to her and she sent him a smile that made even Sam’s heart beat faster.

Sam watched them turn down a street and head towards a famous playhouse. If she saw him, she didn’t make it known. 

Internally, Sam wanted to rip her off the arm of the old braavos pervert and return her to the relative safety of her barge. Gentle born ladies aren’t supposed to be held so close by men that aren’t their husbands. Braavos was vastly different from Westeros though and Sam had a feeling the Winter’s Wind would be less than happy by the actions. Besides, even if he did have the courage to face the merchant king, he wouldn’t make it past the guards.

Instead Sam continued down the way he was headed and tried to fight his worry for the could-be Arya Stark.

   

* * *

  **Cat**

 

The moment Sam left, Cat donned the leather tunic and breeches that she used for her dancing lessons and, once again, became Arya Stark. She tied her hair back with a ribbon, armed herself with the sharpest daggers that she possessed, and slipped out of the barge. 

It was easy enough to find the deserter. The whispers in the street said that Daeron had taken a shine to the young whore under the employment of Merry. Given her beauty and age, Lanna was thrice as expensive as any of Merry’s other whores and Daeron sang sweet songs to her, hoping for a favor. 

Arya Stark waited for hours, crouched on the rooftop of a neighboring alehouse. She wasn’t nearly as good of a climber as Bran had been, but she could make do. Climbing the alehouse was a lot easier than scaling the broken tower had been. Bran could make it to the top and bottom without breaking a sweat, but despite her stubbornness, Arya would get scared halfway up and she’d have to descend. 

When the fair-haired former Night’s Watchman finally stumbled from the whorehouse, he was drunker than a sailor. As he bent down to retch, Arya reached over and slid the dagger across his throat. A clean cut.

She dreamed of wolves that night. The scent of fear was thick in the air and she could practically taste it on her tongue. It made her want to smile.

In the morning, a single white letter was left on her vanity. It looked innocent enough, however the wax seal with a hooded figure on top of it spoke of its importance. Cat broke the seal and read the request aloud. There was a single name penned onto the white sheet of paper, a son of one of her clients. Immediately after, she threw the letter into the fire and watched it turn to ashes.

After having the servants dress her and style her hair, Cat sent out a messenger with a letter for the wealthy merchant known only as Poelyno. She penned the note with flowery cursive and included a pretty poem in it that she heard from an old Braavosi tale. Cat signed it, _with love,_ and pressed a sweet, raspberry-coated kiss next to Winter’s Wind.

* * *

 

**The Winter's Wind**

 

His response was immediate. After all, The Winter’s Wind was no stranger to the seafood merchant. He paid for her company at least once a sennight and he constantly sent her extravagant gifts that Cat had no use for.

The mummers abroad the Mummer’s Ship would be performing the Seven Drunken Oarsmen, a play that Winter’s Wind had never heard of before. It was the first night, so prices would be high, but Poelyno promised her good seats and good company. Winter’s Wind immediately sent back the messenger to confirm her attendance. She would be ready by dawn.

Per braavos tradition, he showed up with much fanfare. The amount of guards he brought were an unnecessary showmanship of his wealth. He bought with him singers to praise her beauty and jewelers to drape her in silver and gold. She allowed for him to clasp a delicate moonstone necklace over her neck and bestowed upon him a thankful kiss.

Winter’s Wind smiled when Poelyno smiled and laughed when he laughed. She had heard the same jokes dozens of times before from dozens of other men. But he didn’t need to know that.

After the show, Winter’s Wind accepted the merchant’s offer to stay the night at his home. She had been there so many times before that she knew the guards by name. Poelyno’s abode boasted his wealth and status; it was far more extravagant than Winterfell ever was, even when the King came to visit. When they got to his room, Winter’s Wind could see the deep purple silks covered the large featherbed and plush pillows beckoned her.

Winter’s Wind draped herself over the bed and laughed when he followed after her. Poelyno lifted himself over her and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth and she ran her fingers through his dark, dark hair. When he broke away for air, she pressed a kiss to his jawline and then again to the hollow of his neck.

“Do you have any wine?” Winter’s Wind requested. “It seems like a good night for a glass of Dornish Red.” 

“Anything for you,” he smiled against her lips. He shouted a command at one of the guard’s shielding the entrance and Winter’s Wind could hear the scurry that immediately followed.

When the servant entered with a bottle of wine and two intrinsically designed glasses, Winter’s Wind went up to relieve him of it.

“I’ve got it,” Winter’s Wind told him. He looked about ready to deny her, but Winter’s Wind was quick to smile and take the silver tray from him. “Thank you.” She gestured for the door and the servant was quick to exit, bowing low to the two before finally taking his leave. He closed the door behind him and Winter’s Wind glanced up to make sure that it was firmly shut.

“I don’t understand why you continue to do this,” Poelyno laughed from atop the bed. “It is a servant’s job to serve. That’s what they’re getting paid for.”

“I serve,” Winter’s Wind said. With her back turned towards him, she uncorked the bottle of wine and poured the drink. Quick as a snake, she unscrewed the cap of a potion she had hidden as an accessory of her gown and dumped it into one of the glasses, returning it to its originally place without a problem. Just a little something to loosen his lips and inhibition. “It’s a simple force of habit. From my humble upbringing.” 

“And now look at where you are now,” the merchant said.

 _Yes_ , Arya Stark wanted to say. _Look at where I am now. Dressed in summer silks thinner than paper while a man older than father would have been waits for me on a featherbed._

But The Winter’s Wind wasn’t Arya, she wasn’t even Cat, and instead she replied with, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” 

She offered him a glass and once against sat back on the bed with her back to his chest. She tilted her head to the side just a bit and moaned low in her throat when he laid a wet kiss in the crook of her neck. 

“And how is the trade going with Lys? Last I heard, you were quite frustrated with the silk merchant. What was his name again?”

“Enock,” Poelyno growled into her neck. “We’ve been trading for years now and suddenly he’s raising his prices.”

“That is unfortunate,” Winter’s Wind agreed, arching into him. This prompted the seafood merchant to undo the clasp at the front of her dress. When she didn’t move to deny him, he slipped the silken sleeves from her shoulders, leaving her breasts bared. Poelyno palmed at one, circling a dusky pink nipple with his thumb.

“No more unfortunate than the bastard child he’ll soon be raising,” Poelyno grinned into her neck. “I fucked his wife that night and many nights after that. There’s a rumor going around that she’s with child now.”

Winter’s Wind laughed in reply. “Speaking of children… I haven’t seen Poe in quite some time…”

“Last I heard he got himself into some trouble with the Iron Bank. He came to me for help less than a sennight ago, but he asked for more than I was willing to pay. Told me he would be leaving for Pentos on a ship named The Lord’s Fair Wife or something like that.”

“Really?” Winter’s Wind pouted in response. “He was such a sweet boy.” 

“You could give me another _sweet boy_ ,” Poelyno murmured in her ear. “I can make you one of the richest women in Braavos. I can take care of you.” 

“I value freedom too much to trade it for pretty words and extra spending money.”

The merchant laughed in glee and gave her nipple a firm pinch, causing her to gasp and arch into his touch. “I wouldn’t want you otherwise.”

Winter’s Wind intertwined her fingers through his and lifted his hand away from her breast. She gave his knuckles a swift kiss, and then descended down his body. She caressed the budge in his silk breeches, softly at first, then adding pressure. Poelyno groaned in response and reached down to unlace his trousers for her. Winter’s Wind laughed and slapped away his hands before he could even start on the laces. 

“You know the rules,” she chided. 

“Fuck the rules,” he panted. But his hands stayed by his side, fisting into the slippery sheets.

Winter’s Wind hummed in reply and gave his cloth-covered cock a single kiss, causing him to arch up and curse. She slowly unlaced the strings keeping his trousers tight, giving him a teasing look when he threw her an impatient glare. Winter’s Wind pulled down his breeches just enough to free him from its confines. He wasn’t wearing smallclothes, but she didn’t expect him to. 

Winter’s Wind gave his right inner thigh a quick kiss and flicked her tongue against the skin of his left thigh. She sent him a smug smile when he shuddered and took a deep breath.

When he opened is mouth to say something, Winter’s Wind engulfed the tip of his cock, swirling her tongue around in practiced circles. Poelyno cursed and threw his head back, his eyes screwed tightly together.

She only needed to bob her head a few times before he climaxed with a deep groan. He grabbed at her hair to keep her rooted into place and released his seed into her mouth without a warning. She waited until he was finished to ease back and spit his seed into a handkerchief.

Winter’s Wind righted her dress while the merchant huffed on the comfort of his bed. She dodged his hand when he reached for her.

“Stay the night,” Poelyno requested. A thin sheen of sweat could be seen on the exposed skin of his neck. 

“I would love to,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead. “But I have duties to attend to in the morning.”

“Morning?” He scoffed. After all, courtesans were known to sleep until noon. Their business were usually only acquired in the dark hours of night.

“My Aunt is deathly sick, the one from King’s Landing. All of her sons died in the war and I would like to see her off before she passes,” Winter’s Wind explained. “I’ll be back in a few months.” The explanation should be enough to keep any of her suitors from looking for her once she departed Braavos.

Poelyno grumbled something in reply, but soon enough his exhaustion caught up with him and he drifted into sleep. Winter’s Wind slipped out of the room as soon as his breathing evened out.

* * *

 

**Cat**

 

Cat slipped a veil over her head and kept her face on the cobblestone path until she reached the Nymeria. When she entered the room, she closed the doors behind her and wasn’t at all surprised to see the statured young man attending to the fireplace.

“What has a girl discovered?” He asked her, not looking up from the flames.

“I’m not a girl,” Cat huffed. “And a woman requires a favor first.”

“A woman then,” the man said without argument. “And a woman has been granted many favors. She has been taught how to tell a lie, she has been taught how to speak four languages passably, and she has been made into a famous courtesan before her twentieth nameday.”

“A woman requires one more,” she argued.

“What would this favor be?”

“Three days from now, I plan to board a ship to White Harbor. Once that ship leaves, I would like for all evidence of The Winter’s Wind to be wiped away, as if she has never existed.”

The man stayed quiet for a moment, but his face showed no expression. “It will be done. And the boy?”

“He left for Pentos days ago on a ship named The Lord’s Fair Wife.”

The man nodded once. “Valar morghulis.” 

She whispered, “Valar dohaeris” as she watched him slip out an opened window. She wished that it would be just as easy for The Winter’s Wind to disappear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not edit through this at all, sorry if it's littered with mistakes. If you point something out that's wrong or contradicting, I will go back and fix it ASAP. 
> 
> I get bored with my own work as soon as I write it, so I don't ever go back to reread what I've wrote, which is definitely a bad habit of mine. This took me around two or three days to complete. Once I get started on something, I want to finish it the same day but I only ever start writing once it turns like 9:30 PM and since I have school and sometimes work in the morning, it doesn't leave me with much time. 
> 
> Also, I've started to reread all of Arya's chapters from ACoK, ASoS, and AFFC, which is why it took me longer than a week to update. Like the nerd I am, I have started a fairly detailed character study on her. But I like to know about who I'm writing... I still think I need some work on it though. 
> 
> I separated Arya's chapters into three parts because I think it's important to show how she believes that her aliases are different people from Arya Stark. If it looks weird, I'll change it into one chapter though. 
> 
> I would definitely be happy with any advice that you are to give me, though! I will take it into account.
> 
> P.S. I was fully prepared to write in a Twenty One Pilots lyric, but "I will make you Queen of everything you see," didn't make sense because this is set in Braavos.


	3. Farewell, Braavos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess whose actually not dead? Sorry, I have been very busy these past couple of... years. I spent my Spring Semester last year in Japan and now I just started a semester abroad in China (without knowing any Chinese). So, as a result of my limited language use and considering that I don't have wifi in my dorm and basically all of my favorite social media sites are blocked, I have found myself drawn to writing. 
> 
> Sorry if I lost my touch, and my knowledge about the books... It has been awhile...

Leaving Braavos was a lot harder than Arya ever expected it to be. The Free City had been her home for years, almost as many years as she spent in Westeros. Briefly, Arya wondered if she was more Braavos than she was Northern. 

The blood of the first men flow through my veins, Arya reassured herself. My ancestors were Kings and Queens and held onto the North for centuries. My father was Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell. No one can ever take that away from me. 

But still, as Arya gazed at the city from the bow of a ship, she wondered if she was making the right choice. She had landed in Braavos as a scarred, damaged little girl with hopes of finding her comrade from Harenhall. She never saw Jaqen again, but the coin he gifted her had proved to be invaluable. She had dreamed of obtaining the skills she knew now, back when she was a spirited young girl with no idea of the sacrifice it would take. Either way, in the end, when Arya knew that she could never truly erase the memories of her family, she had hesitantly accepted the Kindly Man’s offer to train as a courtesan. 

By that time, Cat had spent more than enough time dabbling with the various whores of Braavos and watching the beautiful young women leisurely being rowed from one tryast to the other to understand the severity of her decision. 

At first, she suffered the tutorage of the Merling Queen, as one of her pretty, young mermaids. She learned how to braid hair, match outfits with jewelry, and smile prettily behind intricately laced fans. The most humiliating thing, and perhaps the hardest thing as well, was learning how to pout. Arya cringed just thinking about the lesson and how the other mermaids had laughed mockingly at Arya’s pathetic attempts. 

Upon flowering, the Merling Queen was quick to send her to the Black Pearl, who taught her the more essential skills of courtesans. Arya could vividly remember the unsettling feeling of blatantly watching the Black Pearl ride a braavos nobleman. She had seen many vulgar scenes on the run in Westeros, but never so openly. However, the Black Pearl strictly instructed Arya to watch closely, and the young woman was never one to take training lightly. 

Not long after the man left, the famed courtesan explained in great details the acts that she performed and how to drive a man half-crazed with lust. Arya listened closely, and not long after, lost her maidenhead to the young son of a silk trader under the name “Winter’s Wind”. Long after he kissed her goodbye, Arya of the House Stark lay in bed and reflected on her Lady mother’s teachings. She grinned bitterly thinking about how ashamed her mother would have been, but the next day she had smiled coyly and took her next lover with no issue. 

It took many trysts after that for Arya to feel comfortable enough to buy her own barge and hire her own servants. By then, the Black Pearl felt like much more than a tutor to Arya, and before she jumped off of the Black Pearl’s barge, the new courtesan did so with a quick hug to her former trainer with promises on her lips to visit often. 

It took Arya years of training and hard work to obtain the name that she currently had for herself. To leave it all behind because of the word of a black brother that she didn’t even know made her feel foolish, childish even. However, she could tell that Samwell of House Tarly told no lie when he spoke of his relationship with her brother. He was sincere in every word that he spoke, which is precisely what prompted Arya to give him the coin he needed to continue his journey.

What was pocket money to her, was a generous bounty to the brother of the Night’s Watch. Arya had not thought twice when gifting him the purse of precious coins. She had no need for it anyways, The Winter’s Wind made more than enough coin in a single tryst than most Black Brother’s would ever see in their lifetime. 

Besides, Arya decided, a friend of Jon’s is a friend of mine. If Jon can trust him, then so can I. 

A fleeting thought of Jon’s face made all of the hesitancy Arya felt go away at once. She wondered how much he changed. She wondered if he ever got around to cutting his hair without their family there to remind him. 

He probably wouldn’t even recognize me anymore, she thought, half nostalgic, half sad. She was but a child when she last saw him, with mousy hair and constantly covered in dirt. Arya was a woman grown now, had been ever since she woke up bloody and tender in her shared cabin with the other mermaid girls. If there was any doubt in it then, the silk trader’s son ensured that any remnants of her girlhood was stripped away when he ripped through her maidenhead and spilled his seed deep inside of her. 

She wondered if Jon would still finish her sentences and spin her around. She wondered if he would try to muss her hair and kiss her forehead like he would when they were still children. Her hair was much longer than it ever was when she was growing up. As a result, she typically had her handmaiden keep her tresses in carefully braided styles, so that it would stay out of her face and out of her way. It would be much harder for Jon to mess with now. 

He had probably received Samwell’s letter by now, Arya thought, if the letter ever made it out of Braavos. It was hard enough for a Lord or Lady to send a letter overseas, but for a Night’s Watchmen, Arya imagined that it would be much more difficult. 

She imagined how he would react upon reading it. She could still remember the curve of his lips and the deep sound of his laugh whenever she amused him. Arya imagined that he would react in much the same way. She wished that she were there to see his reaction. 

“Cat?” A reproachful voice roused her out of her thoughts. 

“Yes, Serra?” Her faithful handmaiden to the end, upon learning about her employer returning to Westeros, Serra was quick to follow suit. Even though Arya could not guarantee a safe and smooth journey, the pretty young serving girl insisted that she be brought along. 

Even one of her guard, Teson, had agreed to tag along. After the disbandment of her Harrenhall group, and the abandonment of Gendry to the Brotherhood Without Banners, Arya was careful about getting close to people again. She had formed friendships with many of the citizens of Braavos, but Arya was careful to avoid attachments. Even her relationship with the Black Pearl was distant, despite their history. 

Arya imagines how she would react about hearing news of the Black Pearl’s death. She thinks that she will be sad, she decides. However she has dealt with enough pain and disappointment in life to not take it too hard. 

But now she would be responsible for a different group and Arya had no idea what to expect of the journey to come. From the Northern part of Westeros to the most Southern end, every inch of the land was affected by the war of the Five Kings. When she had left, Arya left a country ravaged by war and soaked in the blood and tears of soldiers and smallfolk alike. 

She had managed to keep her small group of Gendry and Hot Pie alive when she was only a girl of nine, Arya reassured herself. Now she was a woman with a purse heavy in coins and jewels and gold. Surely, it would be easier to travel this time around.

But still, Arya remembered the sound of screams and sobs coming from the mouths of women being raped. She thought about the mountain’s soldiers and how they bragged about torturing and ravaging the women of the lands. 

If any man tries to touch me in such a way, I will shove a dagger in their eye. Then, I will relieve him of his manhood and shove it down his throat. 

They would arrive in White Harbor, which was much closer to Winterfell than the Riverlands. As a result, the journey would be shorter and hopefully, safer. 

“The Captain would like to meet with you to discuss the journey,” young Serra informs her, jogging her out of her thoughts. 

“Tell him that I will be there in just a moment,” Arya replies. She doesn’t want to leave the bow until her sight of the titan blurs and the view of the city becomes swallowed by water. 

When the last remnants of the city sink below the view of the sea, Arya takes one final long look at the direction of her temporary home and a deep breath. Then, she moves to the direction that she knows where the captain awaits her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make me very happy :) :) :)


End file.
